Mr Christmas Read online

  She clears her throat and my eyes snap back to hers. There’s a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow arched. I take her hand in mine. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

  ◆◆◆

  I pull into the Happy Elf’s parking area, ready to get someplace warm. I look at Krissy, my cock just as anxious to be someplace warm. She looks at the B&B, worrying her bottom lip.

  “It’s the elf statue on the front porch, isn’t it?” I joke. “It made me rethink walking through the front door too.”

  She giggles and looks at me. “Hymie? Hymie’s great.”

  I resist the urge to sigh and shake my head. Of course the statue has a name.

  “What room are you in?” Krissy asks.

  “204.”

  She smiles. “Awesome. See ya there.”

  Before I can ask what she means, she leans over and presses her lips to mine. Her cold lips send a chill through me, but they also ignite a flame that goes straight to my cock. Her tongue softly teases the seam of my mouth before she pulls away.

  “Don’t make me wait,” she says before getting out of the SUV and dashing through the snow after slamming the door behind her.

  I don’t know where she’s going since she’s running toward the side of the bed-and-breakfast instead of the door, but I decide that can be figured out another time.

  I hop out of the SUV . . . and sink ankle-deep into snow. Winter wonderland my ass. I make my way to the porch, glaring at Hymie as I open the front door. The little elf almost seems to be smirking at me.

  Entering the foyer, I look around for Krissy. No sign of her. Figuring she’s already upstairs waiting for me, I rush up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Again, nothing. With a sigh of regret, I unlock my door and enter my room, assuming she changed her mind. That’s really frustrating because I’d planned on an evening filled with debauchery with her. It’s probably for the best, though. She’d had more than her fair share of alcohol. And there’s something about her. Something . . . pure. Something that shouldn’t be dirtied by a drunken tumble in the sheets.

  I shake my head and my eyes wander to the tiny desk along the wall. The files for the buyout of the Christmas Shack sit in a tidy pile. I sigh heavily as I pull off my coat. Dealing with paperwork wasn’t the plan when I left that bar, but it’s probably better that way.

  I hear a strange tapping sound behind me as I pull the chair out from the desk. I turn around and face the window just as the tapping happens again.

  Slowly, I approach the window and pull back the curtain, swearing softly at the sight that greets me.

  Chapter 3

  Krissy

  I tap on the window a second time. Where did Sexy Santa go? I’m pretty sure this is his room. God, how embarrassing would it be for someone else to find me hanging from a tree limb outside the window?

  I reach out and tap on the glass again, figuring I’ll just go home if the third time’s not the charm. I’ve never let a guy pick me up from the bar before, never had a one-night stand. So far, it’s a lot more difficult than I imagined it being. But it would be worth it. My parents treated me like a little kid, selling the family business right out from under me. The best way to show that I’m an adult is to fuck a stranger I just met.

  Okay, I have to admit that plan doesn’t sound as good as it did when I was sitting at the bar, slamming drinks down one after the other, which also happens to be something I don’t normally do. Maybe it’s the cold weather, maybe it’s the blood rushing to my head from hanging upside down, but now I’m thinking this plan might be a bit on the impetuous side. Maybe it’s best if this isn’t Sexy Santa’s room.

  As luck would have it, that’s when the curtain is pulled back, and I’m looking into the hot chocolate brown eyes of my Sexy Santa. He looks delicious even upside down.

  His eyes widen and he quickly raises the window. “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? Now back up?”

  He steps back as I twist around on the branch and slide feet-first into his room. He moves around me and closes the window as I brush snow and pine needles off my jacket. He stares at the tree and then looks at me.

  “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

  I shrug as I pull my jacket and scarf off. He might be concerned but that doesn’t stop his eyes from dropping down to check out how my sweater hugs my breasts.

  “I knew I’d be okay. I have experience climbing trees.”

  His eyebrow raises and I feel my cheeks heat up as I blush.

  “Not that tree,” I stammer. “Just trees in general.”

  I step closer to him, a shiver of excitement racing down my spine as I look up at him. I’m barely five feet tall so I usually have to look up at almost everybody, but Sexy Santa—wow! I don’t even know his name—has to be at least a foot taller, and he’s so broad it would be easy to hide by just standing behind him.

  I reach up and run my fingers through his beard. His eyes close halfway and they seem to become darker as a low growl escapes his throat. I gasp and squeeze my thighs together. Wasn’t I just thinking this might be a bad idea? But he’s soooo fucking hot. I press my body close to him and gasp when I feel his hard cock throbbing against my belly. Damn. Do I really want to walk away from this? What’s the point in getting drunk if you can’t toss responsibility to the wind and get a little reckless?

  He’s looking down at me, and I can see the lust burning in his eyes. I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his, and his hands slide up to grip my upper arms. He pulls me to him, his mouth claiming mine, stealing control of the kiss away from me. I moan into his mouth, my hand sliding down between his legs.

  And he breaks the kiss and steps back, leaving me light-headed and breathless.

  “You need to go,” he says, his voice thick and ragged with lust and restraint.

  “What?” My cheeks get so hot they feel like they’re on fire. “You don’t want to . . . I mean . . . is it me?” I just want to find a dark hole somewhere, crawl in, and die. I’m basically throwing myself at this guy and he doesn’t want me?

  He looks at me, those dark eyes intense. “I definitely want you, angel.” He glances over at the table against the wall. “I’d like nothing better than to bend you over that table and have my way with you.”

  My tummy does a little flip and I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ignore the flutter deep inside my core.

  “But not like this,” he continues. “You deserve more than just a drunken fuck with a stranger you just met.”

  He shifts uncomfortably, and a girl would have to be blind to miss the bulge he’s packing. He’s hot, handsome, horny, and hung. And fuck me if he’s not a gentleman too. Just my luck.

  I sigh and look around his room, suddenly feeling shy, embarrassed. I was really going to do it. Sleep with a guy when I don’t even know his name. That’s not me. Not really.

  “Well . . .” I move aimlessly around the room, trying not to look at him. How does one bail gracefully out of a one-night stand that suddenly isn’t? At least he seems just as embarrassed and lost as me. I run my fingers across the papers on his desk, wondering if it would be strange if I just jumped out the window without saying another word. I’m pretty sure the snow would break my fall.

  A logo on one of the documents catches my attention. The logo is a globe with a stylized Christmas tree over the center. The letters C and W are on either side of the tree. I gasp, all the warm fuzzies for the sexy gentleman Santa turning to icicles as I see the name at the top of the documents, the person they’re addressed to. I can’t believe my eyes.

  I spin around and turn an accusing glare on him, jabbing a finger at him. “You’re Joe Christmas.”

  He grimaces. “Guilty.”

  “Fudge!” I almost slept with Joe Christmas. Scrooge and the Grinch all rolled into one. I look around frantically. “I’ve got to get out of here.” I see the window and breathe a sigh of relief, walking quickly to it.

  “Where are you going?
” he asks.

  “Leaving.”

  “There’s a perfectly good door right here.” As if to prove his point, he opens the door.

  I raise the window and look back over my shoulder at him. “If people find out I almost slept with the man who killed Christmas I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “You don’t have your—”

  “Screw you,” I snap. “I don’t care. Just hush.”

  “You don’t have your car.”

  Well fudge. “I’ll call a cab.”

  Before he can say anything else, I climb out the window and grab the nearby branch. Unbelievable. Of all the guys I could almost hook up with, I almost hook up with the guy putting my family out of business. I accidentally get a look at his face—his stupidly handsome face—as I climb down the tree. He looks worried, concerned. When I reach the ground, I flip him the bird and head toward the front door of the B&B. There’s one cab company in town. Jingle All the Way. They only have three cabs but one is always on duty, providing twenty-four-hour service. And even if they were closed, I’d just walk back to my car. I’d rather risk freezing to death than spend one more minute with Joe Christmas.

  ◆◆◆

  “Am I going to die?” I ask myself, and the sound of my own voice makes me wince, the little dude with a hammer pounding even harder inside my skull.

  Slowly, I open my eyes. Thankfully, the room stops spinning. I can smell bacon cooking downstairs. It smells delicious and turns my stomach at the same time. I swear I’ll never drink anything stronger than peppermint hot chocolate ever again.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” my mom calls from downstairs. “Time to get up if you want breakfast. Last call.”

  I grit my teeth as her voice sends fingernails down the chalkboard in my head. But solid food in my stomach is probably a good idea. I crawl out of bed and stagger toward the bathroom, planning on using a serious amount of toothpaste to get the dead animal out of my mouth. I wince as I curl and straighten my fingers. Why are my hands so sore? They haven’t been this sore since my tree-climbing day back when — Oh no. My eyes grow wide as last night’s activities finally arrive in my brain. I almost had sex with Joe Christmas.

  I squeeze some toothpaste onto my toothbrush and brush my teeth angrily as I glare in the mirror. Drunken sex would’ve been bad. Drunken sex with Joe Christmas would be an unforgivable sin. I shake my head. Spit. And brush some more. Like my teeth and gums are responsible for what almost happened last night. Almost. I groan. And why didn’t I sleep with him? Because he decided to be a gentleman. Ugh! How can I hate him for doing the right thing? Oh yeah. He’s putting my dad out of business. That’s how.

  “Are you up?” my mom yells.

  “Yeth!” Ugh. I spit out the toothpaste and rinse. “Yes, I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Dad usually leaves before me for work, and, thankfully, today is no exception, because I’m not sure I could look him the eye after what almost happened. Mom smirks at me when I enter the dining room.

  “What?” I ask.

  Mom shakes her head as she slides two fried eggs and several strips of bacon onto a plate for me and sets it on the counter separating the kitchen and dining room. “Did you get it out of your system last night?”

  Oh fudge! Dread creeps down my spine like Jack Frost’s fingers. What does she know? I barely remember coming home last night. Did I say or do anything that revealed I almost had sex with the man who killed Christmas?

  Mom gives me a knowing look. “Stan called last night. Said you drank more than your fair share of alcohol. He was worried you might not make it home and suggested we keep an eye out for you.”

  I groan. Stan needs to learn how to stay out of other people’s lives. That’s probably a pretty tall order since he’s a close friend of my dad’s. At least he didn’t say anything about me leaving the bar with a guy.

  “At first,” Mom continues, “I thought Stan had you confused for someone else. My sweet Krissy drinking like there’s no tomorrow? No way.” She shakes her head. “And then you came home and threw up on the porch, so I figured Stan probably knew what he was talking about.”

  Ugh! Talk about embarrassing. Fortunately, puking on the porch seemed to signal the end of my oh-so adventurous evening and I collapsed in bed a short time later.

  I finish breakfast and solid food in my stomach makes me feel more human than I felt when I first woke up, so life is back to its normal routine by the time I leave for work.

  ◆◆◆

  Sadly, the idea of a sweet Christmas Strawberry Cake Milk makes my tummy incredibly unhappy so I skip my daily visit to Sweet Treats. It’s probably for the best. I don’t need Jerry trying to ask me out while I’m still wrestling with the idea that Joe Christmas turned down a one-night stand with my drunken slutty self. Ugh! I am so not drinking ever again. Does that make him a good guy? Or maybe he decided he just wasn’t interested.

  Everything seems normal at the Shack. Sure, the employees seem a little less cheery than usual. Oh, they’re still filled with the holiday spirit, sharing smiles and laughs as they help people looking around, but it seems a little empty. The fireplace is glowing, the flames bathing the store with its warmth, but there’s a chill the fire can’t touch. And there’s my dad, sitting behind his desk in his office, glasses perched on his nose as he looks at something on his desk.

  I feel a blast of cold air behind me as the front door opens and closes. My dad picks that moment to look up and he sees me. A big smile appears on his face, followed by a pinched look that makes it look like he just ate a snow cone made of yellow snow.

  Does he know what I was really doing last night? Is that the reason for the look that combines disappointment with disgust? And then I realize he’s not looking at me. He’s looking behind me at the person who just came in. I turn to see who it is and my insides go cold. It’s him.

  Chapter 4

  Joe

  It’s her, and after how things ended last night I shouldn’t be as happy as I am to see her. Once again, she’s a picture of innocence and beauty, standing before me in black leggings that hug her curves and a bright red sweater covered in white snowflakes. She’s still wearing her puffy red jacket, and considering she’s standing by the door, it’s a safe guess she arrived just moments before I did.

  I glance over her shoulder to see her father step out of his office and then look back at Krissy. Her dad definitely doesn’t need to know we already met. That could lead to some very troublesome questions. Smiling politely, I extend my hand. “Good morning, I’m Joe Christmas. Here to see Christopher Snow.”

  She stares at me for a few seconds and blinks, and then, slowly, she raises her hand and shakes mine. Very formal. Once up, once down, and release. “I’m Krissy Snow, his daughter.”

  Christopher steps up beside his daughter. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face, Mr. Christmas,” he says as he shakes my hand.

  I nod, forcing myself to not look down at the gorgeous angel at his side. “How about we get all the boring paperwork out of the way so it’s not hanging over our heads all day long.”

  “Anxious to drop the ax?” Krissy says, her voice sharp with accusation.

  “Krissy . . .” her father begins, but she turns on her heel and storms off. He offers me a weak smile. “Please excuse my daughter. She just found out yesterday about this.”

  A few pieces of the puzzle click into place. The drinking, the devil-may-care attitude. It makes sense now. I offer him a fake smile. “Of course, I’m sure it came as a shock.”

  He leads me back to his office, and after going over the paperwork we both sign on the dotted lines and it’s a done deal. This man’s life’s work now belongs to my company, and it was all done in less than an hour.

  Standing slowly from his desk, Krissy’s father offers me another weak smile. “My apologies, Mr. Christmas, but I’m suddenly feeling very tired. I’m going to go home.” He nods toward the picture window and beyond. “Krissy doesn’t really mess with
the office stuff but she can answer any questions you may have about anything else.” He shakes my hand again and heads out, leaving me alone in his former office.

  ◆◆◆

  For a few minutes, I just stand in the office and watch Krissy and the other employees do their jobs. They’re all wearing bright and festive clothes, always smiling as they talk with one another and customers. It’s probably what it would be like to watch Santa’s elves in his workshop at the North Pole. With a chuckle, I shake the silly thought out of my head. Where did that come from?

  I step out of the office, and Krissy immediately looks in my direction. She smiles at the customer she’s talking with, helps her find what she’s looking for, and then heads toward me, her mouth set in a grim line.

  “May I help you, sir?” she asks.

  I marvel at how the words are so nice and friendly, while the tone definitely isn’t. She sounds bored, and her smile almost looks painful. “Your father said you could show me around the store.”

  Her smile tightens to the point I become worried she might chip her teeth, or possibly bite me, and not in a hot and sexy way. “Did he now? How so very sweet of him.”

  She spins on her heel and starts walking down one of the aisles. “Follow me.” She doesn’t even look back to see if I actually follow her.

  I start after her, trying to focus on what she’s saying instead of paying attention to how her leggings accentuate her round ass. I shove my hands in my pockets just to ensure I don’t reach out and grab a handful of her luscious curves.

  “ . . . and these wreaths here”—she points at the section of wall we’re walking by that’s covered in a wide variety of wreaths—“are made by three sisters in their mid-eighties that live here in town.” She looks back at me. “They’re made by hand. Each and every one of them.” She arches an eyebrow. “Does Christmas World sell custom handmade wreaths?” Before I can answer, she sniffs and turns away from me. “Probably not since it wouldn’t be cost-effective.” She turns and goes down another aisle. She’s halfway down it before she realizes I’m not behind her. She walks back toward me, an unspoken question on her face until she realizes I’m looking up.